


music box.

by littlestormwitch



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, i hate this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestormwitch/pseuds/littlestormwitch
Summary: Nesta remembered that moment too well. That snap in her head, in her whole body, that shut her up when she’d tried to scowl Cassian for – for what, exactly? That she couldn’t remember.





	music box.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i don't like this at all but you know what i'm gonna give it a shot anyway because it's my first time writing them and i can always try again (also i physically uncapable of writing smut so you're gonna get what you're gonna get)

_Nesta blurted, “You didn’t come to –” she stopped herself._  
The world seemed to go utterly still at that interrupted sentence, nothing and no one more so than Cassian. He scanned her face as if furiously reading some battle report.  
Mor just watched as Cassian took Nesta’s slim hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. As he folded in his wings, blindly reached his other hand back toward Mor in a silent order to transport them.  
Cassian’s eyes did not leave Nesta’s; nor did hers leave his. There was no warmth, no tenderness on either of their faces. Only that raging intensity, that blend of contempt and understanding and fire.

Nesta remembered that moment too well. That _snap _in her head, in her _whole body_, that shut her up when she’d tried to scowl Cassian for – for what, exactly? That she couldn’t remember. The wine, the males, it erased everything if not that single moment when every single part of her screamed in longing for his body. It didn’t erase the war, the blood, the desperation in her voice as she yelled Cassian’s name, the sound her father’s neck made when the king killed him, Cassian’s pleas to her to _run_, his lips on hers, and the blade piercing the king’s neck, the way she had twisted and twisted and twisted, his head then in her hands and the power, so much power in her now drained and abandoned body.  
She had hated her Fae body the moment she was Made. She’d felt like it didn’t belong to her, but at least for a while she’d managed to not feel a complete stranger in it – and then she’d threw everything away. _Everything_. And she didn’t care – she couldn’t care. Until that moment.

_You’re coming with me to the Illyrian Mountains._

Nesta was hurt. Hurt because she knew her sister was doing the right thing, but the simple lack of her imagine in that house seemed like they’d gave up on her a long time ago – and she knew it wasn’t true, but she had brought it on herself.  
So she shot the Illyrian warrior an ice cold gaze but said nothing, scanning the room and the people in it – her sister, High Lady of the Night Court, so different from the little bony girl who’d kept them alive for all those years, and next to her Rhysand, that hated Nesta, she didn’t want to fool herself thinking otherwise, but was so dear to Feyre, had helped her so much she couldn’t reciprocate the sentiment. Amren, still glancing at her with those icy eyes that had startled had first, and she hadn’t show a single hint of it, because she’d been her friend and helped when no one could – or would, she still didn’t know. She fixed her gaze on her, trying to ask for forgiveness after their fight, but mostly because she didn’t want to look at Cassian, she wanted to bury the knowledge of what he was to her – what she was to him. And now they were going to be together, in a camp full of Illyrian soldiers who probably thought of here as some sort of witch.  
“When?” her voice was steady, cold, and she saw Feyre sigh slightly, her shoulders arching and making her lose that regal posture she’d gained in her time with the High Lord.  
“Everything you might need is already there, so we can go now,” Cassian replied instead of Feyre, and Nesta straightened her back, tipping her chin up. _Look at him_, she almost ordered herself, and did so – founding him already looking at her with a cocky grin on his lips, as if he’d heard her. Nesta pierced him with her gaze then got up and, without a word, left the room.  
Feyre sighed again behind her, but Amren giggled softly, probably stretching on her chair like a cat.  
“She hasn’t said no, High Lady, she just doesn’t like goodbyes,” she told her, and Nesta found herself sighing in relief.

She felt him before she could see him and regained her hard posture.  
“Are we going to talk about it?” Cassian asked from behind her in a soft voice that made her want to fall on her knees, remembering his broken, bleeding body, the way it felt below her when she’d shielded him. Cassian snapped his tongue. “I think about it too,” he added, and she knew he was looking at her.  
“You’re shadowing the sun,” she replied plainly, and the man _snorted_.  
“I don’t think it’s enough to warm you, so why bother?” he retorted getting closer, and she stiffened again. _Even though I may think about a thing or two_ – she felt him. _Heard_ him as if he’d yelled the words in her face. “Are you ready to go?” he asked before she could say anything. Nesta clicked her tongue in annoyance.  
“Do I have a choice?” she finally turned to look at him, ignoring the tugging in her bones that dragged her near him. _Closer, closer_, it whispered, and she shushed him by pressing her lips together at his expression – _pity_, he felt pity for her because of her self-destructive behaviour.  
“Nesta,” her name on his lips was like a caress, or a _prayer_, “we’re doing it for you, you know that?” he moved one of his hands – the gem on it catching the sunlight and Nesta’s attention for a moment – as if he wanted to reach for her face but thought better of it, ruffling his hair instead. She didn’t reply, simply stared at him, a storm in her eyes. He bent his head back and sighed before extending his hand toward her. “Alright, let’s go,” he murmured, and she arched a brow.  
“We’re supposed to fly there?” she demanded, clenching her fists. Cassian only smirked, taking her wrist and dragging her to his chest.  
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you fall – but you can hold as tight as you wish,” he murmured, too close to her face before scooping her up in his arms as she snarled at him. Unwillingly, her arms flew around his neck, and she saw his smirk as he stretched his wings before shooting to the sky – and if it wasn’t for her pride, Nesta would’ve screamed at the movement.

“What is this place?” Nesta’s voice was barely a whisper as she looked around the main room of the house they’d entered. The walls were covered in paint: Amren’s eyes, Rhysand’s wings, Azriel, Mor, Cassian, Elain – Nesta’s chest tightened at the sight of the flames around her figure. “Feyre,” she managed to murmur as she approached the wall – something creaked behind her feet and she jumped back, frowning. “Is that a picture?” she asked more to herself than to the Illyrian standing behind her with his arms crossed.  
“I think that’s our Lady and Lord’s fault – I don’t know what they did last time they were here, not sure I _want_ to know,” he was grinning like the devil and Nesta’s face twisted in disgust at the implication. Not that she was surprised. “Feyre accepted the mating bond here,” Cassian said then, almost casually, and Nesta stiffened again. “She offered him dinner, waited until he finished and then they –”   
“I thought I was here to train,” she interrupted him too quickly, making his grin grow wider.   
“You won’t train with them – I’m not letting you anywhere near those savages,” he replied, and Nesta clicked her tongue annoyed. “I’ll train you, but for a few days you’ll remain here, adjust to the place, _eat,_” she rolled her eyes at him, but he ignored her, “then we’ll start.”  
“So I’m locked here like a prisoner,” she stated, and for a moment Cassian looked almost hurt.  
“You can go wherever you want, Nesta,” she closed her eyes as he said her name again. “It’s you choice – I simply advise you not to, or at least not fuck the soldiers,” his voice cooled down at that, and Nesta shot him a look. “There’s something for you on the couch, the house will provide you with anything you need, I’ll come back tomorrow,” he avoided her eyes and got out without another word.  
When Nesta found the books on the couch she was torn between smiling or throwing them into the fire, but her body betrayed her as she fell on her knees and cried. For the first time in months she _felt something_, and it was overwhelming, it hurt. But she cried and cried until she was too tired to summon tears or to move from the carpet where she ended up falling asleep.

Days passed, Cassian checked up on her every morning – they didn’t talk about the first morning when he’d found her still on the floor, her face drained of all colours, her lips broken. They didn’t talk about a lot of things, and it was consuming them: they both hid it pretty well, but they couldn’t stand next to each other for more than an hour, and then Cassian would go to cool off in a fight – _training_ – while Nesta simply sat on the floor reading, picking at the food he left for her without too much enthusiasm.  
One night, Cassian closed the door with too much force as a storm wrapped around the house, the wind howling against the shielded windows. Nesta looked up from her position on the kitchen counter as he stepped into the room shrugging his jacket off. They exchanged glances but said nothing for a while, until –  
“What was my present?” Nesta wondered, a plate in her hands. Cassian froze and looked at her with confusion, slightly cocking his head to the side.  
“What?” he retorted, moving his gaze from her face – she was less bony already, the colour coming back slowly, her cheeks rosy by the warmth of the house and her hair left loose on her shoulders, tucked behind her ears elegantly – to the full plate in her hands.  
“My Solstice present, the one you threw away,” there was no accusation in her voice, but Cassian’s face heated all the same. It wasn’t something he liked to remember.  
“How do you know I threw it away?” he murmured. Nesta simply shrugged placing the plate on the counter, sitting across from it right in front of him.  
“I don’t know I just – I felt it,” she tried to explain. Few were the occasions when Nesta Archeron stuttered. “When you did it I felt it,” she clasped her fingers together, trying not to look at him. _She couldn’t_, she realized. She couldn’t move her eyes from his face as he, too, studied her. “I feel it all the time – you, I feel _you_,” she lowered her voice, as if someone else could hear them.  
“Nesta,” he called her, sweetly, a tone that he didn’t think he could use.  
“What was it?” she insisted, and Cassian sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.  
“Something stupid I –” he shook his head. “A music box. I don’t remember much of my mother – my _real_ mother – but she hummed, always, and when I saw that _stupid_ music box it made me think of her, and I knew she would’ve liked you so much even before you tried to shield me, to _save_ me and –” he took a deep breath in, trying to part from the tension of the days that has passed. “I feel you too, and it’s distracting to the point I feel I could walk right into a tree and not notice it,” he released his breath and with that the tension in his shoulders. Even his wings relaxed, touching the pavement, and he looked at the woman in front of him again. She was smiling – not the usual, ferocious smile that made everyone take a step back; a little, soft smile, unusual on her hard features. She pushed the plate in his direction.  
“Eat,” it was an order, but Cassian still stared at her, his lips now parted in a bewildered expression.  
“You do know that –” he tentatively started.  
“You know why Amren and I fought?” she asked, tilting her head to the side slightly. “She was the only one to know truly about this,” she gestured between them awkwardly, making him smile, “and even if she understood the reasons why I went away she thought I was throwing myself away – which, don’t ever mention it to her, was true. And one night your name came up, and I was too drunk to think properly, so I started to tell her _everything_,” she stopped for a moment, hiding her hands. “I told her of the moment I felt the bond snap into place, and how terrified I was because it made sense,” she frowned, tilting the head to the other side, “but at the same time I didn’t want to believe it, because it meant commitment – don’t give me that look, I’ve read and listened to enough stories about the mating bond to know it’s true,” she almost snapped. It was the first time she mentioned it completely. _Mating bond_. Cassian felt his heart thunder in his chest, but let her continue. “And the last person I tried to commit to,” she shrugged, pushing away the thought of Thomas Mandray, “you know what happened, and I was utterly terrified – even if I knew you’re not like that,” she seemed inclined to say something else, but shrugged again and nudged at the plate. “Now eat.”  
Cassian almost devoured the food, gaining a little grimace from her.  
“Don’t give me that look, I bet you’ve read about the way mated males feel too,” he muttered with his mouth full, and Nesta’s expression shifted into a laugh. A true, pure laugh. _Had he ever heard her laugh? _When he finished, she left her seat gracefully and walked towards him, the portrait of elegance and confidence, and once she stopped in front of him he didn’t dare move a finger, waiting for her to lean forward.  
“This doesn’t give you a single territorial right or claim over me,” she murmured close to his face, her eyes dancing flames into his own. Cassian sucked in a breath, his wings twitching slightly as he moved in her direction too.  
“Yes, it does,” he replied in a low tone, and before he could capture her lips, Nesta’s hand was on his face, her fingers pressing his cheeks as she held him at bay. A guttural sound left his lips, and she smiled at him – _her_ smile, the one of a beast ready to attack.  
“I am my own persona, Cassian,” her voice was barely a whisper, and his name made his wings twitch again as he tried to keep his body in control. His hands went to her waists, barely touching her over her shirt – he realized then she was wearing tight pants that showed the full shape of her legs – and the fire in her eyes grew brighter as she released slightly her hold on his face. “You won’t _posses_ me,” she added, almost breathless. He nodded once, curling his fingers against her hips before she came crashing on him. Cassian remembered their first, rushed kiss, the way her lips had felt on his, the pain in that brief moment he’d stolen to her: it was nothing like it. It was like fire, burning them both, and water, waving over them again and again.  
“It drove me mad,” Cassian mumbled against her lips, wrapping his harms around her and stumbling to get up, now towering over her, “to know you were with _others_.” She grinned on his lips as her hands slid through his hair, pulling it softly.  
“I was trying to shut you out,” she replied, and he lifted her from the ground in response, parting from her burning, red mouth to kiss her skin, slower, soothing his hunger, his longing for her. She wrapped her legs around him, then tipped her head back as his lips found their way down her neck, leaving her almost breathless.  
“You didn’t have to,” he kissed her below her ear. “Shouldn’t have,” added then, moving to her throat. She grinned, parting her lips to release the air, and at the same time brushed her fingers against his wings – he moaned in response, caught by surprise, and looked up at her who laughed as if she’d just freed herself before rolling her head, taking her mouth close to his again.  
“So Amren was right,” she whispered, her free hand now under his chin almost to held his head high; their gazes met, and she moved her fingers on his wings again with a devilish grin. He tightened his hold on her and took a deep breath in. “Come now, Cassian, won’t you restrain yourself for your _mate_?” she wondered innocently, an amused glint in her eyes that was enough to send them both on the floor, right on the carpet – _when had they moved from the kitchen?_ His body was on top of hers now, her chest shaking with giggles as he looked down at her, mad and not all the same.  
“Say it again,” he murmured, taking one of his hands to her face, pushing away her hair to look at her, _completely _and _truly_ look at her. She moved her head to the side, smiling again _and again and again_.  
“What,” she propped her torso up, brushing the tip of her nose against his cheek before she whispered next to his ear, her lips caressing his face. “_Mate?_” while saying so, she stroked his wings a third time, and he shook atop of her, breathing loudly.  
“You’ll drive me insane,” he muttered before locking her mouth with his while his hands explored her body. And she was still smiling when his lips replaced his hands, when their clothes were gone and the moment she pushed him to the ground, where they remained the whole night, awake and – after hours – asleep, wrapped around each other.

The next morning it was an annoyed growl that woke them up.  
“You could’ve at least covered yourself with a blanket!” it was Azriel’s voice as he turned his back on them, the shadows wrapping around him as some sort of shield. “Rhys’s owes me some money, at least,” he muttered almost to himself, and Nesta’s brows shot up.  
“You bet on this?” Cassian asked, trying to sound hurt through his smile, without moving an inch.  
“Of course we did!” the shadow-singer waved at him without turning, and Cassian’s mouth curled in amusement. “He thought she was going to kill you with her bare hands long before you tried to get close,” even without seeing his face, Cassian knew he was smiling.  
“You could tell him she tried – and that I’m taking the day off,” he told his brother as he approached the door. Azriel snorted and waved his hands.  
“Get a room – and clean that place, we _all_ sit there,” he muttered before stepping out and closing the door behind him. Nesta and Cassian glanced at each other before laughing, their bodies already calling to each other.


End file.
